


Devil Got Hold of Me

by AndeliaMaddock



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: BDSM themes, Drug Addiction, Friendship, Guilt, M/M, Spanking, Violence, Withdrawal, cruel words, death mentioned of non main characters, good ending I promise, hurt comfort, it just is real rough to begin with for both of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 00:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10686234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndeliaMaddock/pseuds/AndeliaMaddock
Summary: A knock sounded. The door squeaked. He glared at it, focused so intently on the irritating noise, doubly loud to his fraying mind. "Who the fuck is it? Ain't I told enough a y'all to leave me the Hell enough alone, for y'all to get the hint?""Sure, sure. But I figured you were about due for a visit." The King ambled on through the doorway, and gave a sidelong glance up at the guilty hinge. "We oughta fix that pin. Probably could just use a little bit of oil. Just a bit of TLC would have it good as new.""I don't care." He shuddered in a breath, and hunkered back down in the bed. "Ain't seen you come in here in a long time.""I guess I got spoiled, having you around me most of the time. I don't normally need to come to you."





	Devil Got Hold of Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RobCo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobCo/gifts).



> Requested by RobCo, I hope the way I interpreted your request was alright.

A knock sounded. The door squeaked. He glared at it, focused so intently on the irritating noise, doubly loud to his fraying mind. "Who the fuck is it? Ain't I told enough a y'all to leave me the Hell enough alone, for y'all to get the hint?"

"Sure, sure. But I figured you were about due for a visit." The King ambled on through the doorway, and gave a sidelong glance up at the guilty hinge. "We oughta fix that pin. Probably could just use a little bit of oil. Just a bit of TLC would have it good as new."

"I don't care." He shuddered in a breath, and hunkered back down in the bed. "Ain't seen you come in here in a long time."

"I guess I got spoiled, having you around me most of the time. I don't normally need to come to you." King took a few steps forward, then paused, and tested the ancient parquet flooring with one foot. It creaked dangerously, and sunk an inch and a half lower with the added weight. Brows knit together and he angled his head back a bit and regarded the trick spot.

"Just go around it."

"Didn't realize your room was like this."

"What a surprise. The King ain't aware of what his subjects live like, despite me being situated all of 20 whole steps from your Love Pad." He stared directly at the wall across from his bed, unwilling, a bit unable, to look the King right in the eyes. 

"C'mon, Pace. You know it ain't like that."

"Don't you tell me what I know and don't know, King! You took that title, you might as well have given yourself a crown too. You certainly have a throne, real high in the air, last I checked. Must get windy, way up there above us all."

The King seemed to glance about the room. He sucked in a sharp inhale, like one would on a choke of Jet.

Pacer clawed at his skin, but didn't feel it so well anyway. It didn't matter. None of it fucking mattered.

"Pace. Hey, look at me, Buddy." Concern tinged that voice, and King stepped closer, avoiding the sunken spot on the floor this time. 

Pacer glanced over.

"Did you go on and do a fool thing like taking all this Jet at once?" He motioned to the scattered inhalers, emptied, littered about the room.

He laughed, and swat at a spot on his arm. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"The fuck did I just say?" He uncrossed his legs, and swung them straight over the edge of the bed, in one swift motion. Just like that, he barreled towards King. Pointing finger out, he jabbed the air in front of the King's face. "You don't listen to a damn thing I say, do you?"

"You take that tone down a notch, or you'll regret it, Boy." A low roll of the words, and the King bared a bit of teeth in his eternal smile. 

"Call me 'Boy' again, like I'm just another local thug, and I'll pull 'The King' down until you're nothing but a Joker."

"I didn't come here to tussle, but if that's what you want, Pace!"

Pacer didn't know. He clenched and unclenched his fists, and took a step back. Lucidity through the swirling rage pulled at him briefly, and he all but fell back into his bed. "You should just leave." He rubbed at his forehead, smoothed out tired creases from around his eyes.

King put his own readied fists back down, still clenched, at his sides. "Pace. How much did you take? You know how your heart is, Buddy. It'll be the death of you." That tone, it turned so goddamn sentimental.

Saccharine. Disgusting. Pitying. He felt his face contort in a swell of anger, and he wanted nothing more than to suck one of the inhalers dry, choke on the fumes for a moment, and experience that airy bliss a moment later. It was better than anything this shithole could offer, especially after that raw deal with the NCR.

"I haven't seen you in a stretch of time, Pace. I know that look, but I've been worried."

"You ain't my fuckin' Mama. Don't go Mother Henning around me, I don't need that. Cluck somewhere else, King."

"If you were anyone else, I'd beat your ass."

"Yeah? Why bother pretending you even care about if I'm who I am? Making me bark for the NCR, like a trained dog, sure didn't make me feel special."

"Is this what that's about? I sign a deal, get us all eating better, healthier, and you go and make it turn right back around and be about you? Alright then, so that lil boy down the street who used to hunt rats for his supper, what would you have him do now? Not take the food?"

He twitched, his leg just kept shaking. It bounced him up a bit on the old mattress. He crossed his arms tight, and looked anywhere but at the King. "I haven't even caused problems lately. Ain't that what you wanted?"

"It's been two weeks, Pacer. You can't be cooped up here forever, just on account of us having a bit of a fight."

"What's the fucking problem?" He glanced over, barely. Caught sight of those big blue eyes, all soft, yet steeled. Angry. Ha. He was angry too. He flung himself back out of bed, and stomped around the sunken flooring, slammed the door shut, and turned the bolt. "Can't win, no matter what, can I? Defend the Kings against the NCR, I'm starting a mess. Don't defend the Kings against the NCR, what? I'm making you nervous? Are you worried about a revolt? Don't worry, I still wanna be a King, even if you went and polluted what that means."

"Pacer." A warning growl, lips that didn't often twist into anything but a smile, flipped around. It wasn't a sneer, wasn't a scowl. It was so slight, someone else might not recognize it for what it was.

Pacer almost didn't. He stepped forward, careful as he could be with his steps. He wasn't steady, but he did his best. "King." He did scowl though, readily, easily. He couldn't get that look off his lips if he looked in the mirror and tried. "You shoulda stayed away. I told the boys to leave me be. You crow about respect, and you won't even bother to not bother me."

"I needed to make sure you weren't so hopped up on Jet, you went and did something regrettable. I know what happened last time."

"Oh, you do, huh? What, I went and shot up them soldier boys what beat up our friends? They were begging on their knees for their lives, and they got beat for nothing more than being from around here. Almost killed for being proud of being local. But hey, hey, you know, if you're alright sucking at the gift giving dick of the NCR, by all means. Forget our friends, 'cause you blame me for some Kings getting killed in cold blood."

"I swear on my Mama's grave, if you don't cut that shit out right now--"

"You'll what? Beat me? Kick me out of the Kings? Kill me?" He spit, right into his rusted metal wastebasket. Pacer shook his head, disgust etched into his features. "Nah. You don't have the stones. You'd get someone else to do it. One of the boys what wants to take my place. An outsider, even."

King slowly shook his head, and stretched his hands out, worked some cracks out of his knuckles. "Pacer." Softer.

King always lowered his voice when he was mighty angry. Pacer grinned, though it pulled a little at cracked dry lips. He stepped forward. "Do something. For once, do something yourself."

"I did this. All of this! I built this up, and I do--" The voice raised, almost a clamor, before he hushed himself down into a whisper. "We built this. Together. If you shut me out, I don't know what I'll do." A deep breath, a steadying roll of his shoulders, and spreading of his stance.

A fighters stance. Pacer shook his head. "You didn't ask me word one about what to do about those soldier boys. Not once, not ever." He spit again.

It hit King's shoes, a big glob of bubbly saliva.

That got the steel in those eyes burning bright. King glared. No words, just a look that told Pacer maybe he'd made a mistake.

He already knew it anyway. He smirked.

King caught him, faster than he could've reacted in the best situation. But he wasn't exactly quick on the movements these days. Still, he put in his best effort, tried to wrench free from their grasp. If he just had a bit more energy, just had a bit more oomph in him, he'd have gotten King on his ass. Toss him through the goddamn floor that sunk with every step he made.

But King had him on the bed, sitting on his lap like a goddamn child, quick as could be.

He twisted and writhed, let out a few choice curses, but couldn't get purchase. "Get off."

King held him hard by the wrists, and clasped those to Pacer's hips. "You're gonna talk now, Pace. The Hell's gotten into you?"

"Nothing." He shook. 

King inhaled at the nape of his neck, leaned in to really get a good whiff. "Oh my God."

"Fuck." He shuddered. 

"Pace. Pace, Baby. It's alright." From rough and ragged, to smoothing out the edges in a gentle croon.

"Shut up." He couldn't make his breathing stop, so fast, too fast.

King released his hands, and carefully stroked up his arms. "It's alright, Baby. I got you."

He didn't cry. He'd broken his leg at 11 when he'd been shoved out a second story window by some young dumb, dead, thug, and he'd just limped home and gotten bandaged up. By King, before anyone else knew how good the King was at just near about everything. Before he even was the King.

He didn't cry. He'd been shot by those fucking soldiers, and walked home, bandaged it up by his own damn self with the help of a bottle of whiskey and a stimpak Julie'd given him once upon a time.

He shut his eyes, and leaned back into those arms that stroked him. 

"If you'd've just told me you were trying to quit it."

"I don't need your pity."

"It ain't pity, Pace. It's not pity. Concern ain't a bad thing. There was a time, you knew that."

He shut his eyes, tried to keep the irregular beating of his heart to keep from throbbing out of control. 

Strong hands gripped his shoulders, and King massaged lightly through the thick jailhouse rocker jacket. "Have you been here this whole time, trying to quit?"

"Trying. Didn't go out and get more. But there was a lot. I'd get so close, and then I'd rip it outta my own fucking hands."

"Is there any left?"

"Not... not since yesterday." All that tension, coiled like a pre-War toy, and he felt it creak, and fall away from him. He slumped back against the King, and clutched their tan lapels in both hands. "How'd you know?"

"I. Well, I couldn't smell it on you. It's been more than a decade since that's been the case. Kinda stuck out."

He offered an almost sincere grin, up at the King. "That long? Man, you're getting ancient."

"Yeah, yeah, keep runnin' that fool mouth a yours." Fingers stroked through his hair, and King pulled him in close. "Pace. I'm glad you're stopping. I wanna help."

"Why." He couldn't even muster the energy to put the question in his tone, so he left it hanging as a confused sentence. He chuckled, a bit numb to it all now, and nuzzled in against that blazer. And maybe the chest that was under it was the goal too, all broad and strong and scented with an old world cologne that drove anyone in contact wild.

"Just relax." He adjusted them both a bit, and lay them back on the bed. Strong hands gently fixed Pacer's hair a bit, then worked some knots out of his neck.

He didn't cry. He probably hadn't even cried when his Mama went and spat him out, then left like he was a nothing and a no one.

Wetness breached through his determination, and he sniffed. It didn't keep the water from leaking out and soaking into the King's clothing, right up where Pacer rested his face into that material.

"Shh. S'ok, Baby. S'ok."

"I'm not weak."

"No, you're strong."

"I hate them. They'll take and take, King. They did it back West, they'll do it here."

"I know you're afraid."

"I want what's best for us all too, you know? You told me to quit, and I fucking. I'm trying. I'm trying, damn it!"

"Don't worry about that now. Just relax."

Fingers clenched and unclenched in that thick, comforting material. He didn't cuddle, that was for chicks and losers. But if he felt a bit of stress slide right on out of him with every rub of those big strong hands, then what was the problem with that? He'd beat any fool who thought that made him weak.

"Why do you put up with me?" It wasn't even a pack of self-doubt dogs gnawing at his heels this time, no. He just didn't understand. "We're not even alike no more. I ain't like you."

"Pace." Eyes were calming now, and that smile was back, though a bit dimmed. A bit sadder.

"King, I mean it. All those years of who we were, how come you do put up with me? Like you said. If I were anyone else, you'd beat me up, or try. So how come you're..." Being nice. Being weak. 

That wasn't right. It just didn't make a damn lick of sense.

Maybe in a half hour, or less, when his mood rapidly changed again, he'd understand.

A quiet chuckle, and Pacer could feel the rumble in the chest beneath his.

It both calmed his breathing, and sped up his heart. Any other time, that might feel nice, but with an already racing heart, it made him brace himself with a tighter grip on their clothes. "Damn it! I mean it."

"Do you want me to beat you up? Hmm? Wrestle a bit, like we used to when we barely knew how to talk, much less walk?"

"It'd beat talking around in circles like this. All this tension. All this." He couldn't even collect his thoughts, certainly he couldn't note his fucking feelings and itemize them all nice and tidy for the King's pleasure. With a grunt, he tore himself away from them, and stumbled towards the door.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, where's the fire, Pace? We don't have to talk this out right now."

"I don't think we can anyway." That calm was a lie, and it shattered right there. Nothing was tangible, nothing was real. 

King put a hand on Pacer's left shoulder, tried to pull him into an embrace.

He punched, as hard as he could manage, right square in their chest.

"Damn it, Pace." Harshness escaped, but smoothed over a moment later in that wide face. "Pace, c'mon. Give me somethin' to work with here."

He didn't know. He didn't know.

"You want me to hit you back? Would that make you feel better? Is that really what you're cruisin' for here?"

"They died because of me, didn't they?"

"What?"

"You've said it. Other Kings have. They went with me. We got the streets wiped with us." He looked at King, looked right through him. "Jet makes you feel like you can see everything, but now that I'm off it, it's like I'm seeing things new. I don't like it. The window was better when it was dirty. Wiped clean, I see all the filth outside, y'know?" Someone's voice cracked. Maybe his voice. 

"You're feeling guilty?"

"I don't know." It was definitely his voice that cracked. He felt fists, tight at his sides. His palm hurt a bit. Nails seemed to bite into skin, but it stabilized him a bit, let him know this was real. "I just didn't want them taking what we worked so fucking hard for. It's not fair." He moved back to the bed, and flopped backwards until his hair nudged against the cracked wall, and his feet just barely touched the floor. His bed wasn't all that wide, but he could lay sideways on it just fine. Watch the ceiling. Try to spot the patterns in the splotches of time.

"I can't offer absolution, Pacer."

"I don't care."

"But maybe I can help you feel better. Won't be easy though."

"I doubt it. All the soft words in the world don't mean shit." He didn't spit the words out, just let them fall from his mouth and go where they would.

King stepped closer, and sat on the bed just beside Pacer. "C'mere."

"No."

"Pacer. C'mere. Over my lap."

"I don't want more hugs."

"Then you won't get them."

He glanced up, briefly interested in whatever it might be. He squirmed a bit, and sat more upright, though he was still slouched back, balanced on his elbows against the mattress. "What?"

"You've always been a real masochistic sonuvabitch, running into trouble you couldn't possibly take on by yourself. And I usually had to go in after you, and we'd both get our rears handed to us, remember that? Before we were anyone, we were no one, taking on the world with each other."

There was something in the way King talked, Pacer sat up more fully, and watched that face carefully. But he smiled despite himself, and nodded. "Can't help it. I've tried, you know. To be better. More like..."

"Mmmhm. Maybe that's just what you crave. Maybe you really can't help it."

"So, what?" Curious, maybe, and a bit apprehensive. He tapped the soles of his boots along the wood flooring, and waited. Teeth lightly pulled at the corner of his mouth, and he kept his eyes on King's face.

"So I'll take care of you, like I always have."

Well, that sounded reasonable, probably. His heart didn't slam itself out of his chest, and his breathing was all but steady again. He tilted his head. "How?"

"Lay over my lap." And it kept that same reasonable tone, like it was just the most natural thing in the world. 

"Why?" 

"Just trust me, alright?" There was only that same pitch, that same steady flow of words. Calm and easy. 

A tiny smidgen suspicious, he couldn't ignore he was curious too. He lay over their lap. Pacer aimed his head up a bit and looked right up into their big blue eyes. 

There was a glimmer of something there, and a twitch of mischief at the lips that smiled just a bit more than usual.

He narrowed his eyes, and began to squirm up and pull away.

A hand caught him at the small of the back, and King said in a real soft tone, "Now, don't go leaving yet. Just let's try something, alright?"

He dug his elbows into the dirty mattress and glared up. "What?"

"I think you want me to beat you up. But I don't wanna really hurt you, Pacer. Even if you wanna feel pain because you think you deserve it."

He huffed. "I don't think anything like that."

"Mmhm." King lifted a palm, and brought it down firmly on Pacer's bottom.

It didn't hurt. Shocked, sure, but there was padding of jeans and a slightly plump ass to keep any pain from really showing. He still grunted, and moved to sit upright. "Damn it, you ass!"

"Maybe. And maybe this won't work, and you'll hate me more. I'm runnin' outta options here."

"Let me go, or I'll--" Another hit, and this time it cut him off with a spark of pain that broke through the flurry of Jet withdrawl. He blinked, and took a deep breath. "You bastard."

"Yeah, that's not a lie. Not a secret, neither." Another calm hit, yet stronger than the rest. "I'd say this hurts me more than it hurts you. Hell, I might even be right. These jeans aren't exactly kind to my hands, and you don't seem to be feeling it through that glazed expression."

"Good." 

"So let's get these jeans offa you." Casual, like it was nothing but the news. King reached under, undid a buckle, and tugged that black belt right out of those loops like it was the easiest thing in the world.

For a moment, he was a bit concerned it would be the next thing to hit him, before that anxious thought escaped with the clink of metal on wood, and the sight of the belt somewhere half across the room. He relaxed a bit, and let his shoulders slump right on down a bit.

"That's right. Just keep calm for me. Trust me." King helped Pacer arch his hips up a bit, and got those jeans on down just a short tick later. It was a bit of a problem, to get them down past the knees, but Pacer didn't resist more than a bit of squirming.

He blinked, and steadied himself, steeled himself. Eyes focused on a spider that crawled nearby on the wall, and he felt his mouth hang open, a bit dry for it all. Anxiety? Anticipation? He hadn't thought about being in this spot before, hadn't considered it. But now, his brain focused solely on that. How King all but crooned sweet words down, all while he undid those boot laces on Pacer's feet, pulled them off, and sent the jeans right away after them. How King stroked his bared cheeks, and kept that voice low and lulling.

He glanced back, and waited, eyes wide and focused.

King offered him a bit of a wider smile, and stroked one hand through Pacer's hair, before he returned that hand to the small of Pacer's back. "You alright?"

That was the worst part. Withdrawal lead to things being unpredictable. Terrifying. He'd feel calm, and he did, so he nodded dimly. But in a few minutes, he might fly off into a rage. He didn't know. Even if Jet amped him up, made everything more intense, at least it was regular. Steady.

"You're my best friend, you know. I won't lose you easy." And up that hand went, and down it came.

Pacer felt it. Something to shock through the fog. He grunted again, and ground forward. "Fuck."

"It's alright."

A blink, and he felt another slap on the opposite cheek. 

He couldn't see his own face, but he could imagine a flush of pink matched shades on all four of his cheeks. He clawed at the bedding, searching for some hold, for something to ground him in between hits. "Fuck you."

"You let it all out." No anger in the words, no anger in the hit. Just a hard slap, steady like the others. "You say what you need to. Don't hold back."

He would have, but he'd lost steam a bit, between all the shouting and spitting and everything. But still, it was nice to hear. Validating, in a weird way. 

It hurt. It hurt, and he couldn't help but find himself searching for that sting, considering where the next strike would be. He jumped, jerked a bit, each time. Breaths he'd managed to steady began to rise in pace. He let out a soft whimper, and felt a twist of shame for that.

"S'all right. Let it out." Another hit, right just where bottom met leg.

Pacer groaned, and rubbed down against the inside of King's thighs. "You think you can solve things, all by your lonesome. High... high King, up on his throne." He grit his teeth, in frustration, in pain. In satisfaction. 

"Alright." For once, King didn't argue with a statement like that. Didn't even seem to mind it.

Pacer sighed, and let loose a breath he hadn't meant to hold onto. Let go of his fists, let them relax into the moth-gnawed bedding. "You'll hear anything anyone off the street comes in to say, but you don't hear me." 

The hit brought a twitch beyond just his ass. He let out a short sigh, and thrust forward again. He was only dimly aware of the motion though. Vaguely aware that he started to swell up between those hard slaps. 

King stopped for a moment, and began to rub real soft-like around all the spots he's hit. "You got more to say?"

Not that he could think of. Those strokes, that angel touch, it got him rolling his hips more insistently against the King's supple thighs. "Fuck."

"It's alright, Baby. I don't care much if you don't agree with me."

He snorted.

"Not like that. I care. Of course I care. If you came and told me what you thought without tossing things around and pitching a fit, I'd be a lot more liable to listen. When every conversation's a damn ultimatum from you, what am I gonna do?"

He shrugged. Kept watch on that spider that creepy crawled its way up his worn wall.

"You come at me with statements, not demands, and I promise you I'll listen a helluva lot better, alright? But I want you working on listening too. Coming to me if there are problems. Respect, that's a two way word."

"I guess." He glanced back at King and he felt the irritation that met embarrassment fade away a bit. That look, that pretty, open smile. Those soft eyes. "Are you done?"

"Am I done? Oh, no way. Unless you wanna ask me real nice to stop. But I don't think you're gonna do that."

"Why not?" 

That smile turned smirk. "I don't know, Baby. Might have something to do with how you're ready to hoist a flag up, down there. You really like the slap in slap and tickle."

Pacer grunted, and elbowed King right in the hip.

That got a chuckle, and another slap. "Yeah? Go right ahead. You ain't wriggling your way outta this one until I'm satisfied, this time."

It wasn't a threat. Pacer kept the grin internal, and elbowed them again. "I'll tell the girls how weird you made this."

"Mmmhm. Sure. Tell 'em maybe I like giving naughty boys spankings from time to time. I don't think they'd much care, so long as I kept on providing for 'em."

Fuck. He bit down the moan, and tried to keep his cock from twitching at the cool collected words. "I'm not... a boy."

"Mm. Yeah, true. Still, you act like one from time to time. Like right now. And look how eagerly you shift those hips around. You're really gettin' into this."

He felt a twitch, but it was up against his hip, instead of in between their thighs. He smirked in response, and looked right back up at them with a glimmer of defiance in his eyes. "Is that a gun in your pocket, or--"

"I swear to God, if you pull out that tired line, Pace." Grin met grin, and King chuckled despite himself. And slapped a white hand print right into pink flesh. It bloomed into a brighter pink, and King looked down on his work with no small amount of satisfaction.

"Are you going to tease me all day, or are you going to do something about these?" He lifted his own hips up a bit, and thrust right up as best as he could against the bulge in the King's own pants.

"Try to do something without immediate results, and what do you want?"

"Immediate results."

"You're gonna be the death of me."

"Probably." He pushed back against the mattress hard, pulled himself from under the light grip on the small of his back. A moment later, he arranged himself sitting over King's lap, and pressed them both back sideway along the bed. He straddled those thick hips, and gyrated his own in response. "So whaddaya say, King? Are you ready to try somethin' new?"

Fingers casually played at Pacer's belly and along his inner thighs. Teasing, he seemed to avoid actually touching what craved it the most. "I s'pose so. What've you got in mind?"

"Take it out. Show me what you've got." It gave him a giddy pleasure, telling King just exactly what to do. Demanding it. And still getting the King to listen, still getting him to enjoy it.

King was slow about it though, taking his goddamn time. Like he had nowhere to be, nothing else to do, so why rush?

Any other time, Pacer might try to push his luck and demand a speed up. But here, he just watched and felt no small rush of satisfaction cloud all the negative thoughts, cover them up nicely. "That's right, King. Show me why you're called that."

That sideways smirk always got Pacer right in the groin, but for once he didn't have to hide it. He stroked himself casually, and grinned openly as the King worked his cock out of the fly of his pants. 

"This what you're clamoring for?"

"No more than this was what you wanted." He arched a bit forward, and stroked himself quickly a few times. "I want you to show me how you work those hips."

"Alright, Darlin." King sat upright, and tugged his clothed chest tight up against Pacer's. 

Reaction speed was low when off Jet, and normally he'd panic about that. He couldn't worry too much when it gave him the rush of being on their lap one moment, and pinned down against that bed, getting fingers slicked up and pressed deep inside his burning body just a second later. 

Pacer let his eyes fall shut, and he just took in the heady sensations. Pain, dulled now, but still pleasantly present. Fullness, albeit not all of it yet, that he'd craved longer than he even knew. King, heavy on him, yet gentle in his touches now.

He reached down, and worked his fingers right up into the thick of that pretty hair.

"Sergio would have your hide himself, if he knew what you were doing to my hair."

"Eh. Let him try."

King snorted out a laugh, and pressed a third finger in. "If he knew you said that, he might not make your hair so pretty. And that'd be a goddamn shame."

He bit his lip, and let out a quiet laugh. "Maybe I'd have to get a buzzcut. You wouldn't even know what to do. "

"I couldn't even look at you if you did." King chuckled a bit more, and reached one hand up to held Pacer along his length, while the other kept on with its goal of stretching and relaxing Pacer.

"You know, I kind of expected you to be in me by now."

"Sure, and when you finally do get out of withdrawals and have to go see Julie because you can't sit for a different reason, don't cry to me about it." Though he teased, he didn't pull out the fingers, or stop working Pacer over carefully. Gingerly.

He didn't think too hard on it. Maybe he liked it, having so much attention paid to him. No more yelling, no more fighting. Just King putting all of him into Pacer. Well, most all of him. "Please, c'mon. Don't make me beg. This is my damn bed, you know."

"And here I thought you were going to be patient. Shame on me, really." King rolled his eyes, and spit into his own palm for a moment, before he worked that slickness along his thick length. "This what you want?"

"You know it is. Don't be so--" He sighed, and rolled those hips right up with practiced ease. Maybe they hadn't all learned the famed dance hip thrust for this reason, but it certainly worked. "Damn."

"You alright, Baby?" Concern in that tone, and King paused his descent into Pacer.

"Don't. Stop." He caught them by the lapel, and pulled them deeper. Wrapped legs as best as he could around the King, and made him go on in. Smooth and easy. Maybe all that fingering had helped. It was a bit tight, just at first, but it went well.

King's eyes were lidded, heavy looking. His smile hung even more lopsided than usual, and he pressed a kiss right up against Pacer's forehead. "I'll see you through this. You've got my word."

Pacer matched those tired eyes. Matched that easy smile, for once. He rocked up towards them, and nodded casual like. "I know. I know."

"I won't let you fall, Baby."

Pacer shut his eyes, just breathed them in. Without Jet, he felt like he was free falling, occasionally. But he felt a bit grounded, there, pressed tight to the bed. It was just the friction he needed. "Harder."

"Y'sure?"

"Go on." He wouldn't beg, probably. For as long as he remembered he had a resolve not to. 

It didn't matter though, King seemed to want it anyway. He rocked those hips real low, pushed his cock in just right and nice. The slight curve to it worked beautifully, pressed against his insides so good.

"That's right, King. Fuck. Just like that, don't you dare stop. Fuck." He couldn't concentrate, could barely form coherent words. It all descended on him, the King, pumping and thrusting, the pleasure, wound so tight in him it felt like he might pop off without even touching himself, the care. King there, taking real good care of him, despite having been a real ass.

He clutched at their shoulders, held tight, and whispered a few things he'd probably forget by the time the morning haze hit him and he'd fallen back down into feeling like death was a great alternative to consciousness.

King held him. Kissed him, right there, firm on the mouth. 

Emboldened, he kissed back. Didn't hold off, didn't turn his head. Let them. Returned it. 

When King finally finished off, a minute later, he could barely keep his breath from running out. It didn't take more than a few squeezes from the King, for his own body to give in and put out. He felt that sticky familiar feeling, and just sighed relief.

"I love you, too, Pace."

He kept his eyes shut. Let himself fall, slowly, descending into sleep. But maybe, just maybe, he smiled as he went.

And maybe, just maybe, he smiled a bit more when he felt that thick body pull him into an embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> If any a y'all have a request, feel free to comment and let me know. If you liked it, please let me know too! Thank you.


End file.
